


How far you fall

by missmaddie



Series: Nephilim taste of Apples [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Affairs, Arson, F/M, M/M, Multi, alec is long suffering, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 15:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4310037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmaddie/pseuds/missmaddie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Au where Jace is an arsonist who will burn down the world for Clary Fray. </p><p>Isabelle kills her lovers and husbands to keep her and lover comfortable.</p><p>Alec lightwood is very normal and hides the bodies and loves his murderous boyfriend, Magnus Bane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How far you fall

He kisses her hard and His lips taste like kerosene. Ash is spread across his cheekbones like war paint and she's holding fire between her arms. 

The house rages behind them. She loved watching Jace work. His golden eyes dancing like flames as he walks the outer edges of the house, dragging the container of lighter fluid behind him. 

She remembers his scortching touch as he drags his dirty hands down her sides, the very first time He let her in on his special hobby. She remembers thinking, this boy will burn you alive. She can't wait.

Jace loves two things. Clary Fray and casual arsony. The fire bites him and it singes his arms and fills his lungs. Clary scratches down his back and bites his tongue until his mouth fills with blood. The fire hums beneath his skin and her fire bends the steel that is his bones. She scortches him with her fire hair and smokey breath. He'd set a thousand fires for her. He'd burn the world down and dig her out of the ashes.

Clary is his goddess, his hestia, his moth, tangeling herself in his smoke, flirting with his fire and dancing between his flames. They will both be burned and they will take the world with them.

He follows his brother's instructions to the letter, for once as he washes away the evidence of a night well spent, the ashes and gasoline, anything that could get him locked up or looked at suspiciously. Alec taught him well. He throws away cloths that will never smell quite the same, and he thanks God he's not his sister. Her clean up must be harder.

"Madness and last names are the only thing shared by family" Isabelle read that somewhere, in some book, in a nameless man's house, spread over his desk. Unlike the title, the man, and the sex, that quote has stuck with her. The man lasted thirty minutes. 

His blood stained Her dress. 

She thinks of her brothers as she wraps herself up in one of Simon's bedsheets. 

She didn't share a last name with Jace, but out of all of the Lightwood siblings, they had the most in common.

Jace liked to start fires, to feel the snap of the lighter and be overwhelmed by smell of gasoline. She liked to loose herself in the whirl of romance and Simon's unbridled jealousy and the fading heartbeat of husband number 4. 

She still thinks fondly of Alec, her darling brother who hides her husband's bodies, who washes away the blood of some man who was dumb enough to walk into the Widow's web and comes up with clever, almost novel like excuses for them all. Political enemies, secret affairs with dangerous women (if they only knew) and abandonment. Her darling brother. 

And Max. A bouncing boy who was nine or ten, (he'd always be nine to her, her precious sunshine boy) who still fancied himself a hero. Give him a few more years with their mother. That trait is beaten out fast.

She thinks of husband number 4, her sweet Meliorn. She'd met Simon after husband number 2, and they'd been inseparable since. Simon hated them all, hated their old money and the way she hung off them. Meliorn never stood a chance.

Maybe it was his love her or maybe an unexplored darkness on his part, she wasn't sure. But ever since number two's death, since he pressed his lips to hers, only a shut door between them and a room full of mourners, he'd been part of this.

Of seducing and spiking their food with rat poison. Part of her act and the grand finale, part of her. She wonders who needs it more.

Simon wakes up cold. Isabelle was like a heater. It was her greatest trick. Warm hands, cold heart. He smiles and reaches for his glasses. You wouldn't look at this smiling bespeckled man and think he slept in a spider's web. 

He walks into the kitchen and there she is. His red lipped, red handed siren, luring him, tempting him with sweet words and nonsensical songs. Urging him to swim, to inhale water and drown in her.

He wonders, sometimes how they can fall for her act. How they can turn a blind eye to marks he makes sure to leave and the overwhelming smell of anthrax. Then she smiles.

If Jace is fire and Isabelle is ice, Alec is the ocean. A comfortable middle between the two extremities he was raised with. He finds Jace covered in soot and missing half an eyebrow, he washes him up and shows him to mirror his arch. Isabelle shows him red stained collars and blue prints and he spins her a story of a revengful mistress (half truths were the best) and forks over his good detergent.

He loves both his siblings dearly. His love for them is thredded in every little lie to the police and every alibi he provides. When Magnus stumbles home, bloddied and murmering about demons into his skin, Alec knows it's time to introduce him into the family.


End file.
